


The Dark Room of Nightmare

by sitabethel, Supersteffy



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series
Genre: Banter, Flirting, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7406707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersteffy/pseuds/Supersteffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Description: Marik has come up with the most diabolical way to defeat the Pharaoh yet-via Yugi! Rated T for swearing and innuendo. One-shot. Inspired by the card of the same name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Room of Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This was Supersteffy's first Abridged fic, and also her first co-written one.

The musty odor of death and dust pervaded Yugi’s nose as he drifted into consciousness, but it was the staccato of bickering voices that roused him. He groaned as pain lit up behind his eyes and spread to every crevice in his mind, throbbing in time with the sharper tones of the higher-pitched voice. Tuning out the noise, he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings.

 

            He appeared to be in some sort of tomb or dungeon—if dungeons were commonly strewn with pizza boxes, taco wrappers, and yaoi magazines. Or had horror movie and Darth Vader posters on the wall. When Yugi tried to stand, he found that he’d been wrapped from head to toe in flashing Christmas lights and that his puzzle was nowhere in sight.

 

            “What the hell?” His eyes moved from the colorful bindings to his still-bickering captors, and he took a deep breath in preparation for the parade of idiocy he knew was about to start. “Hey, guys.”

 

            The villains ignored him. Yugi sat there for a good few minutes and let the ebb and flow of the squabbling crash over him as he tried to loosen the lights, which somehow managed to tighten further. The up and down cadence of Marik’s and Bakura’s words was like a heart monitor, measuring out his misery.

 

            "I don't see why we couldn't just tie him up with bloody rope," Bakura grumbled, his deep baritone almost soothing in contrast to Marik's squawking.

 

            “Foolish _fool_! Ropes cannot contain him! He would just untie them!”

 

            A devious chuckle rumbled from Bakura’s chest. “Not if we did it right. I have experience in tying people up.”

 

            “You’ve tied up a lot of prisoners?”

 

            “Yes, them too.”

 

            “Well, the lights are _way_ better than plain old rope! Now he is not only restrained, but he looks _gorgeous_!”

 

            “And _why_ is that important?”

 

            “...Shut up! Don’t question my methods! Besides, we didn’t have any rope and these were the closest thing I could find.”

 

            “Ugh! You know your evil lair is bollocks when you have Christmas lights lying around and no bloody rope! And don’t tell me what to do, Marik.”

 

            “Uh, guys?” Yugi spoke up again hoping to catch their attention.

 

            “My lair is the evilest of evil lairs! Never before has there been a lair as _evil_ as—” _Ding-dong._ “Oh! Hey! The pizza’s here!” Marik rushed over to a nearby staircase that appeared to lead above ground.

 

            “Why the hell did you order pizza?”

 

            “Torturing people makes me hungry.”

 

            “We haven’t even begun the torture!”

 

            Marik opened the cellar-like doors. Using the Rod, he “convinced” the man to leave the pizzas without payment. Snickering at his brilliance, Marik carried the pizzas over and sat them a few feet in front of Yugi to tempt him with their nearness. “He he, it’s a good thing pretty much every delivery boy ever is named Steve.  I hate to have to pay for take out.”   

 

            "Guys."

 

            “Marik, we’re _working_.  You couldn’t wait at least a few hours to take a bloody lunch break?”

 

            "Hey, guys."

 

            “Come on, Fluffy.  You know what they say: all work and no pizza makes for a boring night of torture.”

 

            "You _do_ realize I'm awake, right?"

 

            Bakura grabbed his juts of hair sticking in the air and pulled at them while pacing across the stone floor.  “No one says that.  You made it up, and it’s as absurd as everything that spews from your mouth.  Why do I even bother trying to be productive around you?”

 

            "Can we just get to the torture? You're boring the hell out of me."

 

            Marik turned and glared at Yugi, hand wedged against his hip.  "Yugi, do you mind?  I'm _trying_ to have a conversation with Bakura. Honestly, some people have no manners!"

 

            Bakura dropped his hands to his sides.  “Look, as much as I hate to agree with our victim, he does make a valid point. We really should do some actual torture. After all, we _did_ go through the trouble of kidnapping him.”

 

            Marik nodded, a slice of pizza in his mouth.  “Okay, okay, but first check this out.  It’s great!”

 

            Marik dashed to Yugi and grabbed a small box connected to the lights.  Bakura perked up for a moment, hoping against all hope that the box would do something delightful like electrocute their prisoner when Marik pressed the large button in the center of the panel.

 

            “Check _this_ out, Bakura!”

 

            Marik pressed the button and Jingle Bells started playing from the tiny speaker also built into the box.  The lights flashed in sync with the tune.

 

            Bakura scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Y’know, I bet Melvin would have had enough sense to use real sodding rope.” Bakura huffed and glowered at the Egyptian ditz as he started humming along with the music. “Maybe they’ll cause Yugi to have a seizure or something,” he mumbled to himself.

 

            “But look at how festive he is! We should totally use him as our Christmas tree this year! We will put presents around him and none of them will be for him!”

 

            “Marik, Christmas is months away.”

 

            “Then we will just have to keep him here until Christmas!”

 

            “Oh, hell no!” Yugi thrashed in the lights and was shocked when something actually gave way. Taking advantage of the slight opportunity, Yugi managed to wriggle his arm free, quickly followed by his other arm.

 

            “Hey! Stop that! You’re not supposed to escape until we tell you to!” Marik trounced over and began struggling with Yugi. “I command you to stop escaping!”

 

            “NO! Get off me!”

 

            Bakura watched the two wrestle over the lights for a few long moments, but when it looked like Yugi might actually slip past Marik’s hold on him, he decided to step in and help. “Here!” Bakura bound Yugi’s arms to his sides while Marik wrapped the lights back around and tied them in place again. With their captive re-secured, Bakura released his hold with a disgusted grunt.

 

            “Try that again,” Marik warned, poking Yugi in his wire-clad chest, “and I will handcuff you to a fire hydrant!”

 

            “Marik, there aren’t even any fire hydrants in—wait. You had _handcuffs_ this whole time?”

 

            Marik flipped his bangs out of his eyes as he stood, an eyebrow raised at Bakura. He reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a pair of handcuffs covered in glittering, purple fur. “Of course! I always keep a pair in my pocket just in case!”

 

            Bakura’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, his lips forming a lecherous grin. “In case, what, Marik?”

 

            Marik stuffed the cuffs back into his pocket. “In case we ever need to repel from a building! Just like Batman! What else would I need handcuffs for?”

 

            Bakura opened his mouth. Closed it. “...I honestly don’t know where to start…”

 

            “If you had handcuffs, why didn’t you use _those_ to hold me prisoner?” Yugi demanded, utterly dumbfounded by how stupid Marik was.

 

            “Yugi! I’m surprised at you!” Marik exclaimed. “Purple handcuffs with _Christmas lights_? They would totally clash! Bakura and I have reputation to maintain! We’re not just evil—we’re _fashionably_ evil!”

 

            Bakura smacked his forehead, and Yugi wished his arms were free so he could do the same.

 

            “Still, I’m surprised you were able to escape, Yugi.” Marik turned back to Bakura and frowned. “I’m disappointed in you, Bakura,” he pouted.

 

            Bakura’s head snapped up. “Me? How the hell was that my fault?!”

 

            “Yugi wouldn’t have escaped if you’d been watching him like a good Kitty.”

 

            “One, people have watch dogs, not watch cats; two, I’m not, never have been, and never will be, a cat! Besides, if anyone is to blame it’s you for not tying him up correctly in the first place.”

 

            “Hey! F*** you! I have excellent knot tying skills!”

 

            Bakura drew his tongue across his lips slowly. “I’d like to see that.”

 

            “You just did! I tied Yugi up, remember?”

 

            “I wasn’t paying attention...perhaps you should give me another demonstration, say on a bed?”

 

            “...Are you hitting on me again?”

 

            This was getting ridiculous. “Guys!” Yugi tried to interrupt but was ignored. He was starting to develop a complex. As the protagonist, he was used to having everyone’s attention.

 

            “Not in the least. I’m merely saying that your knot tying skills are no match for me.”

 

            “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because the only lights we had I used to tie up Yugi.”

 

            Bakura thought about bringing the handcuffs up, but thought better of it. “Well, now that we _have_ him tied up, what do you plan to do with him?”

 

            “We could set a box of puppies and kittens in front of him! He would be compelled by the cuteness to cuddle them, but he’d be too tied up!”

 

            “And _where_ do you plan on getting a bunch of kittens and puppies in the middle of the desert on such short notice?”

 

            “Huh. Good point, Fluffy.” Marik thought for a moment before his face lit up with evil glee. “I’ve got it! We shall find a set of railroad tracks and lay him across them! _Then_ , we wait for a train to come.”  
  
            Yugi had been focusing on trying to wiggle out of the blinking, caroling lights, but at that he froze up.

 

            Bakura had had a sardonic reply at the ready, but at the uncharacteristically gruesome suggestion he blinked at his partner in crime. “Seriously? You mean to kill him? Just like that? I honestly didn’t think you had it in you, Marik.”

 

            “Ha ha! YES! Wait, kill him? Foolish, _fool_! We’re not going to _leave_ him there!”

 

            Disappointment replaced the vague awe Bakura had briefly felt. “Then what is the point?”

 

            “We wait until a train is about to hit him, and then we pull him off the tracks at the last second! He’ll be so afraid that he’s going to die that he’ll _wet_ his _pants_!”

 

            Bakura blinked slowly as a throbbing started in his temples. The idiocy was starting to saturate his mind. “Marik, that is easily the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard—and I’ve heard a lot of stupid things since I started hanging around you.”

 

            “ _You_ are the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!"

 

            “Ugh! You give new meaning to the word ‘idiot’.”

 

            “ _You_ are the idiot for not seeing how amazing my evil plans are! Besides, I don’t hear _you_ tossing out any ideas, Mr. Fluffy McGrumpy-Pants.”

 

            Bakura crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “That’s because you always veto my ideas in favor of something completely foolish!”

 

            “That is because your plans aren’t as evil as mine!”

 

            “Oh, for the love of Duel Monsters!” Yugi shouted. “Do you two _ever shut up_?”

 

            “Sod it! Why don’t you just ask _him_ what he wants?” Bakura demanded, throwing his arm out toward Yugi’s glittering body.

 

            “Interesting suggestion, Bakura!” Marik turned to Yugi. “Yugi, hypothetically speaking, what form of torture would traumatize you most?”

 

            Yugi stared at his captors. “You have got to be kidding me.”

 

            Marik shrugged. “Hey, we’re as reasonable as we are gorgeous—”

 

            “That’s debatable,” Yugi mumbled.  

 

            “You’re technically our guest—”

 

            “—Victim!” Bakura snarled the correction, arms crossed over his chest again.

 

            Marik rolled his eyes. “Same difference.”  He made a mocking face at Bakura before turning his attention back to Yugi. “Anyway, there’s no reason you can’t pick your own torture.”

 

            “Why would I give you ideas to torture me? And shouldn’t you have had something in mind before abducting me?”

 

            “Aww, come on! You don’t want to be the only one not participating, do you?”

 

            Yugi closed his eyes, wanting to rub the dull pain gnawing at his temple, but unable to because of his bindings. “You know what? Fine. Why not?  I’ll pick my own torture.”

 

            Bakura raised an eyebrow as Marik clapped his hands. “That’s the spirit, Yugi!  So what should we do?”

 

            "You should . . . let me go.  That's the worst thing you could do."

 

            Marik snorted.  "Oh, come on. Not even Bakura is dumb enough to fall for that."

 

            "Me? Marik, if one of us was going to believe something stupid, it would be you."

 

            "I'm an evil genius, Bakura. You're the one that always messes up our plans."

 

            "Excuse me?"

 

            Before they got lost in another argument, Yugi interrupted. "No, hear me out. If you let me go, I'll think you're just toying with me. I'll spend every day with the increasing fear that you'll capture me again until I have a nervous breakdown."

 

            Marik's eyes lit up. "That's not a bad idea!" Marik stepped toward Yugi.

 

            Before Marik could reach Yugi and untie him, Bakura grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Marik. We're not letting him go."

 

            Marik pouted. "Fine, why don’t we just rip up one of his cards or something?”

 

            Yugi’s eyes doubled in size.

 

            “We can’t do that because we—wait, what did you say?”  Bakura released his grip on Marik’s arm.

 

            “I said, let’s rip up his cards.”

 

            “W-wait!” Yugi protested, struggles resuming.

 

            “That’s...yes,” Bakura murmured, turning to grin roguishly at their squirming captive. “Let’s do that.  Quickly, before you change your mind!”

 

            “Wait!” Yugi stalled as Bakura stalked toward him. “H-hold on! I-I have a better idea! Why don’t you, uh—uh…”

 

            “Too late, Motou,” Bakura sneered as he procured Yugi’s deck from the holster on his belt.

 

            “Please! Give it back! _Yami, help me!_ ” He yelled desperately.

 

            Bakura stared at Yugi, sure that any second the Pharaoh would take over and ruin everything, but no flamboyant Pharaoh appeared in a flash of light. Bakura looked to where the Puzzle usually hung about Yugi’s neck only to find the spot uncharacteristically vacant. A slow, satisfied grin stretched over his lips.

 

            “Well, well. Looks like you forgot your Millennium Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card. Too bad for you.” Bakura started to draw a card from the top of the stack.

 

            “Wait, Bakura! I want to rip up the first card!”

 

            Bakura paused. “Well, it _was_ your evil idea…” He passed the deck to Marik before fixing his cruel gaze on Yugi, whose eyes never left his cherished children’s trading cards.

 

            “The first card I shall destroy is…” Marik pulled a random card from the pack. “Magic Cylinder!” Marik made quick work tearing the card to bits, cackling as he did. The first tears dribbled down Yugi’s face and onto the floor along with the fragments of paper. Marik tore up two more cards while Yugi watched, agonized and helpless.

 

            “Alright, Marik, that’s enough. Let me have a go.”

 

            Marik was reluctant to give up the cards, but after Bakura crossed his arms and growled warningly, he relented. “Mrgh, fine!”

 

            “You were right, Marik. This is a brilliant plan.” Bakura accepted the deck from Marik before returning his focus to the distraught duelist in the ridiculous tangle of lights. “Wasn’t this your grandpa’s deck originally? Must hold a lot of sentimental value for you.”

 

            Yugi just glowered at Bakura through his puffy, red eyes.

 

            “Let’s see what your ‘Heart of the Cards’ has in store for you,” Bakura taunted, swiping the top card. “Ooh, ‘Monster Reborn’. Too bad it won’t be able to save any of your monsters if it’s in a hundred pieces! Mwahahahaha!”

 

            “Alright, give it back, Fluffy!”

 

            Bakura moved the deck out of Marik’s reach as he made to take it. Frowning, he replied, “I just got it! There’s enough cards for both of us. Wait your turn.”

 

            “But I want to tear up more!”

 

            “Wait your bloody turn, Marik!”

 

            “But _Bakura_!” Marik whined. “It was _my_ evil plan!”

 

            Bakura heaved a weighted sigh, closed his eyes, and counted to three—or tried to. He only made it to two before Marik stomped his foot in childish impatience.

 

            “Bakura!”

 

            “ _Fine_! Take them!” Bending the deck, Bakura shot the cards in a flurry at Marik’s face.

 

            Marik flinched before glaring at Bakura. “What the frig, Bakura?! I could have gotten a paper cut! Now stop messing around and pick them up!”

 

            Bakura smirked. “You’re the one who wanted to tear them up so badly; you can pick them up.”

 

            "Me?  You're the one who tossed them on the floor!"

 

            "And you were the one who couldn't wait five more seconds while I ripped up one last card."

 

            Marik crossed his arms over his chest.   "I'm not picking them up."

 

            Bakura shrugged, indifferent.

 

            Marik held out only a few seconds before giving in with a growl and another stomp of his foot. Bakura ogled Marik’s backside when he bent over to draw another card from the pile now scattered across the floor.

 

            “Ah! And now to tear up—oh, hey! This is a good card!” Marik carefully took the card he’d picked and tucked it into his back pocket before grabbing a replacement.

 

“Lucky card,” Bakura muttered under his breath.

 

            “YES! Observe, small fry! I shall now destroy your favorite card while you look on, powerless to stop me!”

 

            Yugi’s head shook frantically. “No, you can’t! Anything but the Dark Magician Girl!”

 

            “Hahaha! _Behold_ as I—wait, Dark Magician Girl? No, I was talking about Kuriboh,” Marik corrected, showing him the card.

 

            “Actually, I don’t really care about that card. At all.”

 

            “But-but you use it all the time. It’s your favorite card!”

 

            “No, my favorite card is the Dark Magician Girl.” Yugi looked dreamily at the floor. “Mmm...Dark Magician Girl.”

 

            “This is _my_ torture session and you are my prisoner! Your favorite card is whatever I declare it to be, and I say it’s Kuriboh!”

 

            “You know,” Bakura piped in dryly. “Instead of arguing with him about what his favorite card is, you could always—oh, I don’t know—tear up his _actual_ favorite card.”

 

            “His favorite card is Kuriboh!”

 

            “Marik…” Bakura warned.

 

            “Oh, _fine_!” He huffed. He sifted through the dwindling pile.

 

            “Wait!” Yugi shouted, thrashing against the corded lights without success.  “Wait, uh, wow Marik, you were right.  How clever of you to see through my ruse.  I love the Kuriboh card.  It’s the best card ever!”

           

            “Five seconds ago you said otherwise,” Bakura stated.

           

            Yugi kept his eyes on Marik, not daring to look at Bakura.  “I was lying.  Kuriboh is definitely my favorite card.”

 

            “See Bakura, just like I said, his favorite card is Kuriboh.”

           

            “If he was lying before, why is he telling the truth now?”

 

            Yugi shot Bakura a quick, hateful glance before turning back to Marik.  “Uhh . . . because Marik used the Rod to force me to tell the truth.”

 

            Bakura chuckled.  “Nice try, but the Rod only works on blokes named Steve.”

 

            Yugi flinched and ground his teeth.  “What I meant to say was that Marik’s evil genius was no match for me.”

 

            With that Marik puffed his chest out like a lavender and copper peacock.  “Ha!  ‘Bout time someone recognizes my evil genius ‘round here.”  

 

            Bakura stayed calm, smirk curving crooked up the side of his face like a knife wound.  “If Kuriboh is truly your favorite card, then I suppose you won’t mind if we rip up the Dark Magician Girl regardless?”

 

            Marik laughed.  “Yeah, who wants to play with a smelly girl card anyway?  I’m _way_ hotter than she is!”  He ripped the card into pieces and tossed them into the air like confetti.

 

            “NO!” Yugi screamed, tears falling onto the Christmas lights.

 

            The vestiges of the beautiful and boobilicous magician sunk to the floor, lifeless, as Bakura cackled joyously.  “Congratulations, Marik, you finally managed to do something properly evil.  It was somewhat accidental, but still very satisfying to watch.”  

 

            “Ha-ha, yes!  I tore up the Kuriboh card!”

 

            Bakura smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.  His white hair danced around him like a shaken snow globe.  “Sure, Marik. Sure.  The Kuriboh card. Good job.”

 

            Yugi struggled for breath, almost hyperventilating.  “He, he doesn’t—he doesn’t even _get it._  You all but told him, _and he still doesn’t get it!_  How do you put up with him?”

 

            Bakura shrugged and splayed out his hands in a _what-are-y’gonna-do_ gesture.  “He’s nice to look at.”

 

            “This is crazy.  You’re both crazy.”

 

            “Crazy-evil!” Marik cheered, rummaging through the last of the cards with his foot to see if there was anything else worth tearing up.

 

            “No, not evil; not evil at all.  You’re an idiot.  You’re the reason they make blonde jokes!  You’re the most stupid, incompetent, simple-minded, failure of a villain I’ve ever seen!  I mean, Christmas lights?  Pizza?  You don’t know the difference between kidnapping someone and inviting them to a slumber party!  It’s like you learned how to be a villain by watching Saturday morning cartoons!”

 

            The last sentence made Marik’s cheeks light up as red as the Christmas lights binding Yugi.

 

            Bakura chuckled.  “ _Is_ that where you get your ideas from, Marik?  Saturday morning cartoons?”

 

            “N-no.  Shut up, Fluffy!  At least I have good ideas!  You always come up with ridiculous suggestions like stabbing Yugi with a knife.”  

 

            “Please, _please_ , stab me with a knife.  Kill me.  I don’t even care anymore.  I’d rather bleed out on the floor than have to put up with five more minutes of listening to you two argue like a pair of Slavic grandparents.”  

 

            “Egyptian grandparents,” Marik corrected, and Yugi suspected he was trying to be sincerely helpful.  

 

            “No. Not Egyptian grandparents.  Gods, it’s like you only pick up key words and then shout out the first stupid thought that pops into your head.”

 

            Marik pouted.  “Yugi, you’re being rude again.  I’m going to have to ask you to be a little more courteous of a victim or we may have to send you home before we get to the ice cream and pony rides.”

 

            A rueful sigh escaped Bakura’s mouth.  “And if you’re wondering, he’s not talking about the fun kind of pony ride.  He rented an actual pony.”  

 

            Marik frowned.  “I still don’t know what other kind you’re talking about.  Is that some kind of British slang or something?”

 

            Bakura toyed with a wing of hair sticking from his head.  “No, I just thought you were referring to the Ginuwine song.”  

 

            “Stop!” Yugi screamed.  “Stop it!  This is what I’m talking about, Marik.  Villains don’t eat ice cream or ride ponies.  This is why you’re the worst villain ever!”

 

            A shocked look struck Marik, as if he finally understood what Yugi said.  “Y-you mean, Bakura, right?  He’s the worst villain ever.”

 

            “Noo, I mean you—Marik Sebastian Ishtar III.  You are the worst villain ever.”

 

            “But—”

 

            “Worst!  Villain!  Ever!”

 

            Marik stood, silent.  Instead of his usual flamboyant confidence, something akin to a hurt expression fought to show itself on Marik’s face, though he tried to hide it.  

 

            Bakura sighed. A more uncharacteristic look covered his features—a tender, affectionate look.  He walked up to Marik and tucked a stray, lemon yellow lock of hair behind Marik’s ear, careful to make sure the strands didn’t catch on Marik’s golden earring.  As Yugi watched Bakura in disbelief, he thought of how—if he survived the night—the  others would never believe him if he ever tried to explain the look to them, but it was an expression Marik had seen a thousand times.  When he glanced at Bakura during a movie, while they played card games against each other, in the middle of the night when he awoke from a nightmare about singing Disney [chihuahuas](https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1CHFX_enUS527US527&es_sm=122&q=chihuahuas&spell=1&sa=X&ei=cWTgU-HoAcuiyASjmICwAw&ved=0CBwQBSgA) and wanted to walk around Wal-Mart at 3 a.m. so he didn’t have to go back to sleep—it was the look Bakura wore when he thought Marik wasn’t looking.  

 

            “You’re better at torture than I thought,” Bakura spoke low in his usual, throaty voice.

 

            Marik stared at the stone floor, crestfallen. “What do you mean?”

 

            “I mean, you’ve completely and utterly broken our nemesis, Yugi Mutou.”

 

            “I think he’s just pissed off, Bakura.”

 

            “Yes!  I’m pissed off because you’re both idiots! I’m the freaking _main character_! I deserve better villains than this!”

 

            Bakura ignored Yugi, still staring at Marik.  “He’s rambling and delusional.  He probably snapped when you tore up his Kuriboh card—the stress was too much for him.”

 

            “What? You know that’s not the card I was upset about!”

 

            “But he said real villains don’t like ice cream or pony rides,” Marik muttered.

 

            “And who’s the better authority on being evil?  The protagonist of the show or me?  I promise you Marik, I could spend hours licking your ice cream cone and riding your pony.”

 

            “Really?”

 

            “All night long.”

 

            Marik gave Bakura a suspicious stare.  “You’re not hitting on me again, are you?”

 

            “Yes!  Yes he is!” Yugi screamed.  “It’s not even subtle!”  

 

            Bakura chuckled.  “I have no bloody idea what Yugi’s going on about.  Like I said, he’s snapped from the stress.  Come on, Marik.  If the wanker doesn’t appreciate your evil talents, then let’s just leave him here for the night and let him think about how to behave.  Maybe the next time we torture him, he’ll be a little more respectful.”

 

            Marik grinned as he began to recover from his previous doubts.  “I guess. It’s a shame, though. I really wanted to ride that pony. I paid the deposit on him and everything.”  

 

            Bakura crossed his arms over his chest.  “Tell you what.  Go and saddle him, and we’ll take him out into the desert and search for one of the Steves you have brainwashed to wander around the dunes with a portable taco stand.”

 

            “Yeah, I could go for some tacos.”

 

            “Yes, torture is hungry work.”

 

            Marik hoisted the Millennium Rod triumphantly into the air. “Mwahahaha!  Evil plan success!  Yugi has been defeated!  And now for our next scheme—find the taco stand and eat all the tacos!”  Marik pointed his Rod forward and marched off to prepare for their journey.

 

            Yugi scowled in Bakura’s direction.  “He’ll never get better if you coddle him like that.”

 

            “Better.”  Bakura snorted, reaching down and scooping a handful of card fragments into his hand.  “Here are your cards, Yugi.  Fix them.”

 

            Yugi frowned at the remnants of his beloved Dark Magician Girl.  “I can’t,” he answered waveringly.  “They’re torn to pieces.”  

 

            “Torn to pieces,” Bakura echoed, sifting the cards out of his hand and watching them flutter to the ground.  “And thanks to his father…so is he.”

 

            “But how is that the Pharaoh’s fault?”

 

            “It all started with the Pharaoh.”  Bakura looked up at Yugi, bitter, acrid hate twisting his features.  “It doesn’t matter.  By now your idiot friends have realized you’re missing and they’re on their way to rescue you.”  Bakura smirked as he walked to the corner of the room and brought back a television screen.  He set the box in front of Yugi.  “But before they have a chance to free you, I’m going to make sure you know just what it’s like.  To be alone.  In the dark.  Enduring the most unbearable torture ever dreamt up by a lunatic.”  

 

            Bakura popped a DVD into the T.V. and set it to play. “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to go on a quest for tacos.  I’m really not sure how the Steves survive in the desert, but we always manage to find one or two if we look long enough.”

 

            “Wait, wait don’t leave me.” Yugi watched the screen, dreading what type of horrible, sadistic snuff film Bakura expected him to watch.  It was worse than anything he could imagine. Too late, Yugi realized just how evil, how vile Bakura really was as Beverly Hills Chihuahua started playing on the screen.  Yugi screamed and screamed, but no one could hear him underground, in the middle of nowhere, and over the tune of Jingle Bells and the horrible movie’s soundtrack…

 

            “AHHHH!” Yugi flew from the bed, his blue child’s pajamas soaked through with a fevered sweat. Wiping his dewy forehead on the sleeve of his top, he sat back against the bed, breath slowly petering out to something near normal. “Oh, thank the Heart of the Cards! It was just a dream!”


End file.
